Our Happily Ever After
by CrazySkaterGirl17
Summary: This is a collection of oneshots circling around Maxon and America's life after The One. Some will be fluffy, some will be sweet, some will be somber, and more!


**Hey guys! I'm back with a series of oneshots that take place after The One! While We're On Your Side will be my main priority, I will also update these quickly. Enjoy!**

Cookies

"There you are!" I look up from Maxon's bed, bookmarking my page on the book at the same time. Maxon stands at the door, grinning victoriously, like he got a prize. I smile lovingly at him.

"What are you doing?" I ask playfully, laughing a bit. "Do you miss me already?" Maxon grins at me.

"This coming from the girl who decides to camp out in her _husband's_ room," Maxon teases, emphasizing the word 'husband's.' I look down at my book at the word, hoping he doesn't see my pink face. The single word sends a shiver down my spine, and I can't help but glance at my absolutely priceless ring.

"Do you like that word, America? Or should I say America _Schreave_?" Maxon asks, grinning widely, coming over to the bed and wrapping his arms around me.

"Yes," I whisper, leaning up to kiss Maxon. "Anyway, why are you here?" I add, directing the attention away from me.

"Well, I don't have any more plans for the rest of the day, and apparently, you don't either, from what Mary said," Maxon explains, "so I thought you could teach me how to cook." At this, I can't control my laughter. It comes out in one giggle at first, but then I fall back down on the bed, my shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Maxon looks at me with a perplexed expression on his face.

"O-of all things, Maxon," I say between giggles, "you chose _cooking_?" Maxon swats at me jokingly.

"You know I can't cook, America! It's not that absurd. Besides, we need a distraction," Maxon says, quieting down at the last part. It's true; after all the deaths since the last Southern rebel attack a couple months ago, everyone's been grieving, particularly for the former King and Queen. Every distraction is accepted eagerly.

"Alright, alright," I relent happily. "Let me get dressed, and then we'll go to the kitchens." I dress into a shirt and jeans, knowing that the cooking will get messy. Maxon, being a gentleman, looks away as I change.

When I'm done, he immediately stands up and grabs my arm, dragging me off out of the room. I laugh at my husband's playful antics, following behind him. We make our way to the kitchens, passing by amused maids and guards.

Finally, we arrive at an empty area in the kitchens.

"So, what do you want to make?" I ask Maxon, looking at him expectantly. Maxon shrugs.

"What's the easiest?" he replies. I contemplate this for a few seconds. The easiest recipes are nothing for me to make, but what would be fitting for Maxon?

"How about cookies? Chocolate chip cookies. Those are pretty easy. They're fun to make too," I suggest. Maxon nods, only wanting to get started on the project.

I rattle off all the ingredients and their quantities, and tell Maxon to go fetch half of them while I gather the other half. Within minutes, we come back to our little baking space and place the ingredients on the counter.

"First, we need to preheat the oven," I say, heading over to it, "to 350 degrees Fahrenheit." I set it to the correct heat and walk back over to Maxon. "Then we need to combine the butter, white sugar, and brown sugar in this whisking machine," I add, handing it over to Maxon. We dump the three ingredients into the machine.

"Whatever you do, don't turn the whisk onto h-" It's too late. Maxon turns the switch onto high, and the sugars flew out of the machine in a sugary cloud. Once it settles, we both have spots of brown and white in our hair, and some covering our face too.

"Sorry?" Maxon says, though he's smiling a bit. I shake my head at him, thoroughly amused.

I replace the lost ingredients and whisk them together myself, fake glaring at Maxon when he even gets close to the whisk.

I prepare the rest of the dough carefully and precisely, while Maxon watches.

When the dough's ready, I plop large spoonfuls of dough onto a baking sheet and hand it to Maxon to place it into the oven. If he can complete this task, I'll be happy.

However, when he's walking on the way there, he doesn't notice me crossing in front of him to get a towel to clean up our mess.

"America!" Maxon shouts in alarm, just as the pan crashes into me, and all my work lands on my shirt.

"MAXON SCHREAVE, YOU GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW!" I yell as he runs away from me. Taking a glob of the dough, I throw it at Maxon. He throws his hands up too late, and the dough splatters onto his head, dripping over his eyes too. He wipes it off in disgust, and starts throwing it at the ground, but at the last second, he takes a bit and flings it at me.

I stare at it in horror as it lands flat on my face, covering every centimeter of it. Spitting a bit of it out of my mouth, I propel another glob of dough from my shirt and onto his chest this time. Maxon lets out a high-pitched scream and I double over in laughter. Until a piece comes flying into my gut.

I almost get up and throw at him when I get an idea. I stay hunched over, my hands moving to clutch my stomach. I start fake coughing and fall to my knees. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Maxon's eyes widen in guilt.

"America! God, America, are you okay?" he asks, rushing over to me. The second he touches me, I grab some dough and hurl it at him, hitting his neck. Maxon groans, annoyed at my trick.

Then, he suddenly lunges out and grabs my waist, pulling me to him. I relax, realizing that our mini war is over.

As we walk back to the room, our mess cleaned up, Maxon throws his hands up into the air.

"There's no way I'm doing that ever again!"

**So, how was it? Did you like it? If you have an idea of what I should do next, PM me or tell me in the reviews. Ciao!**

**-Cindy:)**


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